A Case of Perspective
by MimiK
Summary: Two men came through the rift. How will Sherlock, John and the Torchwood team handle it? - a Sherlock/Torchwood/Les Mis crossover
1. A Visitor from the Past

**A CASE OF PERSPECTIVE**

_A Visitor from the Past_

"I think, we have a problem, Jack", Ianto said.

Jack Harkness took a look out of his office and recognized at once, what Ianto meant. Right in the middle of the Hub stood a man. He wore a kind of uniform and a long dark coat. His look and his manner reminded Jack on a bygone time.

"Who is he?" Jack shouted to Ianto. "What did he want?"

Ianto answered with a shrug. "I don't know. He just appeared from second to another."

"Je suis Javert, inspecteur de la police parisienne ", the stranger said.

"He speaks French", Ianto called out.

"Yeah, I recognized it." Jack disappeared into his office and returned with a cube in his hand. "This is a Sybillian universal translator. Maybe it's able to transform French into a proper language."

"Hope, it won't translate it into Slitheen", Ianto commented dryly.

Jack ignored this remark and activated the cube.

Their visitor tried again to get some attention. "Je suis Inspecteur Javert et je demande to know, where I am and what happened."

"It works", cheered Jack.

"You suddenly speak French?" Inspector Javert looked surprised. "Are you from France? You speak without any accent." He paused. "I do not speak French anymore. My voice sounds different, even though I understand every word I say. WHAT have you done? I demand an immediate responds."

"Something is wrong with this cube", Ianto suspected. "His R sounds strange."

Jack shook his head. "No, no, this is his normal way of speaking. So, Monsieur L'Inspecteur, what brings you to this place?"

Javert listened to the words. The phrase sounded familiar, but he rejected the idea soon. "I was after one of the most dangerous convicts… But, before I tell you my story, I would like to know, who you are and where I am."

"Of course, Monsieur L'Inspecteur, of course." Jack jumped down the stairs. "I am Captain Jack Harkness and you are in Cardiff."

The visitor scrutinized him in-depth. This guy was very suspicious and never a soldier.

"And I am Ianto, Ianto Jones." While Jack tried his disarming smile, Ianto became nervous. Javert's stern look, the wild expression of his eyes frightened him. Automatically he moved closer to Jack.

Meanwhile Jack screened the stranger. He wasn't sure, but he might have seen this police uniform a long time ago. Obviously the rift brought the stranger from the past of the earth. They had to check it in the database.

"Morning", Gwen's voice echoed through the Hub. "How are you, boys? Ready to hunt down stupid aliens?"

All three men turned around.

"We have got a visitor." Gwen was surprised. She had a long close look at the stranger. "From the rift?"

"From Paris", Javert answered. Then he turned his attention back to Captain Harkness. "Cardiff, you said. Where is this exactly?"

"Wales." Gwen replied quickly.

"Wales like England?"

Ianto thought this would be the right moment to disappear. "Anyone a coffee?" he asked and decided not to wait for answer. Jack however decided to introduce Gwen and their visitor.

"Monsieur Javert, this Gwen Cooper, member of our team. And this is Inspector Javert, a French police man."

"I like his coat", Gwen said.

"Is it better than mine?" Jack spoke with a childish voice.

"Different only", she answered. "Just different."

"Excuse me you are woman, aren't you?" Javert was irritated. Not even the worst women, he had met during his police career, had ever worn trousers.

"Yes, I am", Gwen replied. "A policewoman actually."


	2. A New Case

_A New Case_

"Boring", Sherlock Holmes said.

"Sorry", answered John. He was focused to read a newspaper and might have missed something.

"Mycroft is arriving and I am sure the case, he wants us to solve, is completely boring."

"Oh", John replied and continued his reading. At the end Sherlock would solve the case for his brother as boring as the mystery behind same might be.

"Some crowd stormed a police station in Chiswick after the arrest of a thief", John mentioned, what he just had read.

"Boring", answered Sherlock. He closely examined his fingernails. "You will find out that these people were hired by the thief's family to create the biggest chaos possible. During this one of his brothers replaced the arrested person..."

"Yes, thank you, Sherlock", John sighed and closed his newspaper. "Is your brother being late?"

"Nope."

Only seconds after this short reply the door of room were opened without knocking. Mycroft Holmes entered the room with the typical mixture of arrogance and self-confidence on his face.

"Home, sweet home", he said instead of a welcome. "Do you both enjoy your cosy brunch?"

John Watson opened his newspaper again and murmured something like "a good morning to you too", while Sherlock decided to ignore his brother's comments as usual.

"My dear brother", Mycroft continued. "I have got a very interesting case for you."

"Hear, hear", Sherlock remarked, which was completely ignored by his brother.

"Torchwood has contacted me this morning", he continued instead. "The Rift brought them a visitor. A visitor not only from another country, but from another time…"

A stage wait followed.

John felt that this was his moment to ask "Who is Torchwood?", but he hesitated. He hesitated, but only until the silence became uncomfortable.

"Alright", he said. "_Who is Torchwood?_"

Mycroft sighed pleased. "Torchwood is a secret society outside the government, beyond the police.

They deal with problems, which don't exist officially. Problems, which are connected with a certain problem called _The Rift_, a crack in time and space."

Sherlock contradicted. "Torchwood is a silly bunch of people running around and pretending they would hunt aliens."

"_Aliens?_" John looked from one brother to another. "Where? Here?"

"No, in Cardiff", Sherlock replied.

"_In Cardiff?_" John couldn't believe it. What should aliens do in Cardiff? Fishing? Swimming the bay?

Sherlock laughed dryly. He had read a lot about this Torchwood institution and its history, but he never believed a word of these stories.

"However", Mycroft urged to return to his case. "This visitor is a French policeman from the 19th century. He reported that he was chasing a convict from his time through the Rift. This means a notorious villain of the 19th century is running around the present Wales."

"A likely story!" Sherlock wasn't fond of the idea running around Wales with these Torchwood lunatics on his heels and chasing a non-existing criminal. He was looking forward to a relaxed weekend teasing John with charades and playing the violin.

"I have got an important conference to attend. So, you have to catch him, Sherlock", Mycroft insisted and John had the slight idea that they would travel to Wales soon.


	3. Holidays in Wales

_Holidays in Wales_

"Damn it!" DI Lestrade cursed. This year's holidays he had planned very careful. Slightly away from any civilisation he would relax and calm down. For this reason he had decided to travel Wales. The famous landscape, the silence and the fresh air promised perfect holidays. He wouldn't think of police work, the files lying on his desk or the stress. He would just settle down, relaxed, recover - all this on his own.

This morning he had been arrived with a backpack and a tent. Now he stood in the middle of nowhere with his tent nearly fallen into the river in front of him and a wet rucksack. Fortunately his car was parked not far away. He could be back on the car park within 40 minutes.

Lestrade decided to ignore the wet weather and the muddy path. He took a deep breath and looked out onto the stunning views of the surrounding woods. This was amazing. He turned around, stretched his arms - and lost his balance. The weight on his back drew him down. Lestrade fell right into the river.

Splash! The famous Detective Inspector from London paddled in a cold Welsh river and wasn't able to rescue himself, because his backpack tried to drown him.

"He… he… heeelp!" Lestrade tried to call. He was sure that no one would hear his cry, but his life was worth a try.

The water was extremely cold. Unbelievable that one could get cold so fast while swimming in a river (well, a sort of) in summer. Lestrade tried very hard, to get back on his feet, but it wasn't possible. The stones in the river were slippy and the rucksack was too heavy.

Suddenly he felt a jerk. Someone grasped the backpack and dragged him up.

"_Hasp_", Lestrade screeched, while air floated his lungs again. He fell down into the wet grass on the riverbank. He breathed heavily.

"Thank you," he stammered a bit later and looked up.

Next to him a man sat in the grass. Lestrade's rescuer had a strange appearance. His clothes, the hairstyle, his beard appeared somehow archaic. Otherwise the man seemed to be absolutely trustworthy.

"My name is Lestrade", the rescued policeman introduced himself.

"Ah, Lestrade", the stranger answered. " Pardon, Monsieur, oú nous sommes? Ce n'est pas la France, non? "

"Err, my name might sound French, but I'm not from France", Lestrade explained. "Je… err… non Francois."

The other man looked at him doubtfully. Then he said: "Vous êtes anglais, Monsieur, pas francais?"

"Whatsoever", Lestrade replied. He pointed on himself. "Lestrade."

Then his finger pointed on the stranger. "Jean Valjean", same answered.

Minutes later both men shared tea from Lestrade's thermos and some of the cookies, which survived the bath in the river with little damage only. On one hand Lestrade regretted that he left his smart phone in the car. The talk with the French would be easier. On the other it had never survive the water float.

Lestrade was reminded on a meeting with Russian colleagues in Moscow. After the interpreter had left, the policemen had been talking in a kind of sign language and had had a lot of fun.

"Well", Lestrade murmured, "some vodka would help now, too."

Vodka would not only warm him up. It would also ban his doubts. Jean Valjean had probably saved his life. He appeared extremely nice and reliable. But Lestrade didn't know anything about him. He could be the world's most dangerous serial killer. Maybe he wasn't even French. Actually Jean Valjean looked very Welsh.

Lestrade understood that Jean Valjean wasn't sure, how he had stranded to Wales. Maybe he suffered a kind of amnesia. Or, possibly, Lestrade interpreted Valjean's gestures wrong. The best way to find out was to go back to the car and to find someone, who speaks French. In addition Lestrade would love to get into some dry clothes.

"We should go back to my car", Lestrade suggested.

"Car?" Valjean asked. "Carrosse? Vous avez un carrosse? Parfaitement, Monsieur!"

"Yes, perfect", Lestrade answered. "Let's go, before we both get a terrible cold."


	4. A Nice Welcome

_A Nice Welcome_

"The tourist information?" Sherlock laughed. "Do you really want to storm into the tourist information and ask about the way to Torchwood?"

"Your brother said, we should go to the tourist information at Cardiff Bay", John replied.

"My brother and his perfect ideas. Thank you! Even sent us to Cardiff was a silly idea by him." At least Sherlock was in a very bad mood. "CARDIFF! It is hardly a city, isn't it? And have you ever been at Cardiff _International_ Airport? I have never seen before such a tiny airport pretending to be _international_."

A woman passed by and John could hear her grumbling: "Bloody arrogant English."

"Maybe we should go inside and ask for Torchwood", he suggested, because he was afraid that the locals would otherwise lynch Sherlock within the next ten minutes. And they would have every right to do this.

Sherlock Holmes opened the wooden door in front of him and entered the tourist information.

The room behind the door didn't look typical. Maybe, John thought, the setup is a sort of local colour. On the contrary, the man standing next to the desk looked too classy for being a common tourist guide. His suit was very fashionable.

"Good day", Sherlock started. He spoke very slowly just as he was afraid the man wouldn't understand him otherwise. "We are looking for Torchwood and my dear friend here believes that you be able to help us."

The man answered with a smile. "We have already expected you, Mr. Holmes. Dr. Watson. I am Ianto Jones. Welcome at Torchwood." He opened a door behind him and invited the visitors to follow him.

After passing a bald passage the three men entered a large room crowded with technical equipment and other stuff not to recognize within the first moment.

John felt a slight breeze over his head. He looked up and just caught a large wing disappearing at the other end of the room.

"Myfawny, please behave yourself", a man said. "You shall not frighten our vistors."

Sherlock and John turned around.

"I am Captain Jack Harkness", the man introduced himself. "Welcome to the Hub."

"Thank you, Captain Harkness", John answered. "I am John Watson and this is…"

"Sherlock Holmes", Sherlock interrupted. "You own a nice playground. Is this a pterodactyl over there?"

"Yes, indeed - and please call me Jack, John. Sherlock." Captain Harkness smiled brightly. John had the sense that he was flirting with both of them.

"Fine, fine." Sherlock was looking around. "Is this pterodactyl a kind of hologram?" he asked.

"No", Ianto Jones answered. "He is real."

"Don't be silly", Sherlock rejoined. "These animals are extinct for a very long time."

Captain Harkness gave a laugh. "Believe me, she is very real. You can pet her later, if you like. She loves to be touched by handsome males."

John raised an eyebrow. This guy was really flirting with them.

"Maybe later", Sherlock answered brusquely. "We came here to solve a case you aren't able to work out yourself."

Captain Harkness frowned. "I wouldn't say so, but we were advised to consult with you about a certain problem. As far as I am informed you are adept at catching criminal subjects."

"Advanced level, yes", was Sherlock's answer. "You shall have met someone pretending he is from the past."

"He is from the past", Jack insisted.

"Yes", Sherlock mumbled, "and Cardiff is the world's centre of alien encounters. Can we meet your guest now?"

Ianto Jones sighed. "Coffee?" he asked.

"Tea would be nice", John answered.


End file.
